


The Box

by ufp13



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boxes seemed to be all she knew of him these days. Post 9x10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Box

**Author's Note:**

> Not my sandbox, just playing in it.  
> Thank you, C. *hugs*

She stared at the box sitting in front of her on the desk.

Boxes seemed to be all she knew of him these days. Boxes seemed to have become him. The boxes he had asked her to pack because he didn’t have the time anymore before his flight left, the ones he had asked her to store until his unknown return, the ones he occasionally asked her to open to check or relocate something, the ones she thus sent him and now the one he had sent her. 

It was the first – and maybe only – one. Having arrived yesterday, it was still closed and untouched. One would think her to be excited about getting a package from him, especially after the amount of time that had passed since their last contact, would expect her to tear it open the moment it was delivered, but all she had done was set it down on her desk and stare at it ever since. 

By now, she could describe every dent, every tear, every smudge of the box in detail; however, her heart still beat faster when she looked at the rather ordinary, brown cuboid. 

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about what the box contained; at the same time, though, sadness floated her emotional world as the box served as a reminder of what they had become, of what they had been reduced to. It couldn’t replace his boyish, seldom smile, the twinkle in his eyes when he got excited (most likely about one bug or the other), the calmness his presence provided her with or a sounding board if she needed to rant. Granted, the box would listen just as patiently as he and probably not say much less in return than he would, but it just wasn’t the same. So she continued to caress the familiar handwriting in which her name had been scribbled onto the box, envisioned the expression of concentration on his face as he had done so and hoped to see it in person soon. Until then, though, she had work to do. Slacking was not an option, his heritage too impressive and too important to her for that.

With determination, she grabbed the surprising light box and put it on the floor next to her desk, out of her sight. She would open it later, tomorrow or whenever she would feel like replacing loving anticipation with something else, something real. 

= End =


End file.
